


Miles

by Mike_Remington_Hanson



Series: Forward [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mike_Remington_Hanson/pseuds/Mike_Remington_Hanson
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: Forward [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655923
Kudos: 15





	Miles

Maybe one day, they'll find something like peace.

Now, it feels so much like running away.

There's probably a rule about this somewhere, about transporting a minor who isn't family across state lines and the legality of it all. Tobirama thinks this, absent and uncaring. He is not a lawyer nor a cop and he wants nothing to do with either.

His hands are relaxed upon the steering wheel of his BMW. He watches Madara out of the corner of his eye.

Madara, slouched in his seat, bare feet upon the dashboard. Chipped nail polish on his toes. Black streaks upon pale flesh where he'd struggled to stay within the borders of his nails.

A tiny smile curves Tobirama's lips. Privately, he thinks this endearing. Madara has always been endearing in all his awkwardness.

"Maybe in another life, I could've been powerful," Madara says, over _Landslide_ on the radio, around the dark green curly straw in his soda, the cheap brandless shit that's so bottom shelf, it may as well be on the floor. Madara had — unfortunately — inherited Izuna's terrible taste in junk food.

Tobirama's grip tightens around the wheel. He knows what Madara is thinking. It makes him abruptly pull over, kill the engine. He steps out of the car. Leans against the hood and lights two cigarettes. He looks ahead, along the deserted road that doesn't seem to end. He does this to calm himself, to keep his temper leashed beneath his blood and bones.

It is always there. The blood-boiling _rage_ that simmers beneath his flesh each time he thinks about Madara's past.

He can feel Madara's eyes on him through the windshield. Thirteen heartbeats. The opening and closing of a door. Madara by his side, taking his cigarette from Tobirama's fingers. There is hesitance in his movements. Tobirama glances down and sees that Madara is still barefoot.

They remain that way, silent. Tobirama is distinctly aware of Madara's breaths. Aware of all this heat in what little space still lies between their bodies.

His hand traverses that space, a touch that's gentle upon Madara's shoulder. Tobirama guides Madara to face him. He drops his cigarette in the dirt. Brushes the bangs from Madara's face, revealing his right eye.

His eye, which isn't there anymore. Tobirama runs his thumb along the closed eyelid, the scars that run from brow to cheek, the badly burned flesh. He feels Madara's breath still, feels him shiver beneath his touch.

"There is nothing weak about you," Tobirama says, angry and vehement, like he's said countlessly, tirelessly before. He would keep saying this till Madara believes him.

Maybe one day, Madara would stop running.

Maybe he'd leave his nightmares and ghosts buried along this endless highway and find his version of peace.

For now, Tobirama presses his kiss to Madara's scars, and hopes.


End file.
